


In Which Jack Zimmermann makes breakfast

by JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU from before graduation (no goodbye kiss), Alternate first kiss, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oblivious Bitty, jealous Bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle/pseuds/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Bitty are friends, good friends. So Bitty tries to be supportive when Jack starts dating Camilla Collins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Jack Zimmermann makes breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an idea that [halesbunnyteeth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lautjuh1/pseuds/halesbunnyteeth) shared on [Tumblr](http://halesbunnyteeth.tumblr.com/). Thanks for letting me play with it!  
> Unbeta'd, so let me know if you see anything that needs to be fixed.

Of course Bitty knew who Camilla Collins was.

Tall, blonde, captain of the tennis team. Attractive by any objective measure of that sort of thing. Jack’s date to Winter Screw his last two years at Samwell. A fantastic athlete, Jack had told the Swallow. That’s what would be important to Jack in a romantic interest. Not that Bitty had committed everything Jack had said about Camilla to memory or anything.

But really, anyone who went to Samwell from, say, 2012 to 2015 would have known who Camilla Collins was. That didn’t make Bitty special.

But it didn’t make Bitty feel any better when she approached him in Jack’s new kitchen, saying, “Hi, I’m Cami! I don’t think we’ve met.”

Because Eric Bittle wasn’t the kind of person everyone on campus knew, especially not campus celebrities. Eric Bittle was known to the Samwell Men’s Hockey team and a few thousand people who liked baking or who found his blog and his tweets amusing.

Camilla -- Cami -- was still coming towards him. “You’re Eric Bittle, right?”

Bitty straightened up and closed the oven door, half turning away to set the timer on his phone.

“Um, yes?” he said. “I mean, of course I know who you are, um, Cami. And I am Eric Bittle. Did Jack tell you about me?”

It seemed a logical assumption, given that they were standing in Jack’s new kitchen. Bitty had just put the last six mini-pies in the oven (maple apple; he’d finished the peach pies earlier) and was preparing to start appetizers; Jack had invited some of the team to come to Providence the weekend before they started practice at Samwell, and Eric had arrived hours early to start cooking in Jack’s kitchen. 

Jack had sent pictures of the range and the double oven to Bitty, along with pictures of the granite countertops, Sub-Zero fridge and Kitchen-Aid stand mixer, so Bitty was expecting all that. He’d even chirped Jack over text for trying to make him jealous over his kitchen.

Bitty had not been expecting Camilla.

“Well, yeah,” Camilla said. “Jack’s told me a lot about you. But I recognized you from your vlog.”

Bitty felt everything slow down. What had he said about Jack on his vlog? How obvious had he been?

“You watch my vlog? Has Jack seen it?” 

That was the last thing Bitty needed.

“I don’t think so?” Camilla said. “I mean, he mentioned you back in school, and I asked if you were the hockey player with the vlog about baking, and he said he thought so, but he’d never seen it. We’ve never really talked about the vlog since then. But I have to tell you how much I love it. I was never able to make a real pie crust until I watched you.”

“Really?” Bitty said, trying to contain a pleased smile while he pulled out a platter and an assortment of cheese, vegetables and olives. “So you watched it before you knew Jack?”

“My aunt sent me a link,” Camilla said, starting to arrange the food with Bitty. “She saw you were at Samwell and she knew I liked baking, so she thought I’d be interested.”

Bitty pulled out more food another platter, working next Camilla.

“So what’s your favorite thing to bake?” he asked.

“Well, I know you like pie best, but that’s honestly more work than I usually have time for,” she said. “I do a lot of muffins and quick breads.”

“Those can be good, too,” Bitty said, because let’s face it, not everyone was cut out for making pastry, and quick breads and muffins didn’t take long and were easy to take with you or give away.

“I was actually going to bring some muffins today, but Jack told me you’d be here, so I thought it might be overkill,” Camilla said with a grin. “But I thought I’d come a little early and see if I could learn anything from the master.”

Bitty smiled despite himself. She was nice. And athletic, and attractive, and female. Definitely more Jack’s type than Bitty, who had to keep convincing people that really did play hockey. And who was male.

“Aren’t you too kind? You ever need anything, just text me,” Bitty said. “Give me your phone and I’ll put in my number.”

Bitty had Cami’s phone in his hand when Jack appeared in the doorway with a case of beer in each hand. He hesitated, looking at Bitty and Cami standing close to one another, smiling, before walking to the refrigerator and saying, “Oh, good, you’ve met.”

“Sure have,” Bitty said. He looked back at Cami. “You do know this place is going to be overrun with hockey players in about an hour and a half? Are you staying for that?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of the hocky bros,” Cami said. “Tennis is a little different, but it would still be a little weird having an outsider crash a team event for us. It’s just that Jack and I are both in Providence now -- I start school at Brown in September -- and it’s nice to have a familiar face. He invited me over because grad student housing is really nothing to write home about, so it made more sense to hang here.”

“I’m sure you’d be welcome to stay,” Bitty offered, the manners his mama drummed into him coming to the forefront. “I mean, the team can be a little … overwhelming? … I know, but any friend of Jack’s --”

“Bittle,” Jack’s voice cut in. “I’m sure Cami has plans.”

“That’s right,” Cami said. “I really do. I asked another girl on my floor to have dinner tonight, since we’re both new in town. Wish me luck!”

“I’m sure you won’t need it,” Bitty said. “But you can’t go wrong if you bring baked goods!” 

Cami laughed, then hugged both him and Jack before leaving.

“So what was that about?” Jack asked, as soon as she left. 

“What was what about?” Bitty said. “I was just being polite to _your_ friend. Sounds like she could use some friends.”

“Friends?” Jack asked. “But you were laughing and smiling and you had her _phone._ Looked like flirting to me.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann! Are you jealous?” Bitty asked. “Have you forgotten that I’m gay? You have nothing to worry about. She seems really nice.”

Jack looked a little confused, but nodded once and started to put the beer in the fridge.

“No! Not in there!” Bitty said. “There’re two coolers with ice on the deck. Beer in one, and then put water in the other one. I have a feeling people are going to need it.”

****

Bitty knew things at the Haus wouldn’t be the same without Jack and Shitty, and he was right, but he he was too busy to spend too much time moping. Hockey training started, and then classes started, and he caught a ride to Providence with Shitty for one of Jack’s preseason home games and went down with all of the previous year’s team for the Falconers home opener. After the game, when Shitty and the boys left, Bitty stayed in Jack’s guest room and cooked breakfast the next morning. He took the train back to Boston later.

Jack was still on the group text, but he didn’t contribute much. Just the odd sage advice about getting enough sleep and working hard at practice. He still texted Bitty, too; some of the texts were similar to the hockey messages (he still thought Bittle should eat more protein) but some were more personal. Sometimes Jack sent photos he took, or told Bitty about his new teammates. Bitty sent pictures of new things he baked, and complained about how much studying he had to do, and once, in a weak moment, told Jack he missed getting up early for checking practice. He thought he’d never hear the end of the chirps, but none came. Jack just responded, “I miss them too, Bittle.”

When Bitty had rough games, he texted Jack. When Bitty had good games, Jack called him and asked Bitty to tell him all about it: how he saw the play developing, how many defenders he had to get past, how he guessed right about which direction the goalie would move. The previous year, Bitty had scored occasionally, but more often assisted on Jack’s goals, seemingly knowing where to send the puck to end up on the tape on Jack’s stick before Jack knew himself.

This year, with new linemates, Bitty was using his speed to get past the defense and scoring himself. Most of the time, he flew past the opponents’ lines without the puck, took a pass and shot almost immediately, not giving the other team the opportunity to put a hit on him.

Other times, he took the puck from the blue line in.

“Rans and Holtz were calling me ‘dangles’ after the game,” Bitty told him, giggling. Jack could imagine the blush over Bitty’s cheeks at the praise. “That guy had no idea which way to go.”

“I bet it was great,” Jack said. “But be careful, yeah? You don’t want a target on your back.”

“It that Captain Jack Zimmermann talking?” Bitty scoffed. “Telling me to avoid checks? What happened to skating through them?”

“You know what I mean, Bittle,” Jack said. “Sure, sometimes you’ve gotta get through a check, but don’t put yourself in a bad position just to keep the puck. If they flatten you, they’re going to get it anyway.”

“Aw, Jack, I never knew you cared,” Bitty chirped. 

Jack never mentioned Camilla. Maybe he knew, Bitty thought. Maybe Jack knew about the hopeless, pathetic crush Bitty had been harboring for at least a year (longer? Yeah, probably longer) and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

At the same time, Cami started texting Bitty that fall, only she called him Eric. She would send lists of ingredients and ask what she should make, or complain about her workload. Apparently, a graduate degree in bioengineering did not include many blow-off classes. She would send pictures of her finished muffins. Once she mailed a tin of actual muffins with a note saying, “You’re always baking for everyone else. I wanted to return the favor.” Eric had to acknowledge that they were good, not too dense, tender, just the right among of sweetness. It wasn’t even too hard for him to admit how good they were, because he _liked_ Cami.

Cami never mentioned Jack unless Bitty did first.

But Bitty saw pictures on the Providence Journal’s website of Jack and Camilla out at a charity event, and saw mentions that they’d been spotted at a popular restaurant. One of Jack’s new teammates held a bowling fundraiser, and Cami was there, too, according to the story. There was a picture of the two of them in front of a lane, weird neon lights in the background, Jack’s arm resting on Cami’s shoulders, the same way he put his arm around Bitty when they sat on the couch to watch SportsCenter when Bitty was in Providence.

Bitty thought about taking Jack’s name off Google Alert. He reminded himself again that he had no right to be jealous. He and Jack were friends, and he was happy that Jack had someone he liked. It should be a bonus that she liked Bitty too, and Bitty couldn’t find it in himself to dislike her. His straight-boy pain wasn’t her fault.

Parents’ weekend came and went, and Jack asked about Bitty’s mother, and Bitty asked about Jack’s parents -- he couldn’t bring himself to call them Bob and Alicia, even in his mind. Bittle roasted a turkey and cooked all the side dishes for Thanksgiving in the Haus, feeding Chow, who couldn’t make it to California so close to winter break, and three new frogs. He texted Jack -- on a four-game West Coast trip -- about how much easier it would be to make Thanksgiving dinner in his kitchen in Providence. He shared his recipes for pumpkin pie and pecan pie with Cami, who was bringing dessert to her family’s celebration.

He had made it to a couple more Falconers games in Providence, taking the train up and crashing with Jack afterwards. There weren’t that many games he could get to, given his own hockey schedule and his classes, but Jack told him to come as often as he wanted, just to let him know and he’d have a ticket waiting. If Jack was more, well, affectionate, when they went back to his apartment, that was just because he was more at ease, Bitty figured, maybe because he had a girlfriend and Bitty wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Jack would lean against him on the couch, or pull Bitty’s feet into his lap. He’d hug him goodnight, or grasp his shoulder in passing. Nothing that really crossed the line. It might have been torture, but it was sweet, sweet torture. 

The holiday benefit season started to rev up, and Bitty saw snapshots of Jack dressed up in a suit, Cami in different dresses on his arm, three times in one week.

Bitty took Jack’s name off Google Alert. Just until party season was over, he told himself. Finals week was upon them, then Ransom and Holster were planning another Epikegster, then he would be back home in Madison, and he wouldn’t think about it.

Bitty tried to avoid the whole topic of the Epikegster this year. It hadn’t actually turned out to be much fun last year. He liked Ransom and Holster fine, of course, and Chowder was like his sweet baby son, and Lardo would be there. But the only thing that made it fun last year was holding up the wall with Jack. Then Parse came and everything fell apart.

The morning of the party, Bitty baked. He made mini-pies and muffins and cookies and prepared to set everything out with paper plates and plastic utensils. It would break his mama’s heart to see it, but Bitty knew disposable was the way to go for an event like this.

Just before the party got under way, he checked to make sure there was enough soda for people who didn’t want to drink, and enough water for everyone to stay hydrated. He knocked on Lardo’s door to make sure she was OK -- Shitty had been hoping to come, but it looked like he was still going to be finishing a final paper, due by midnight. Bitty wasn’t sure what the exact nature of Lardo and Shitty’s relationship was, but he knew that Lardo missed Shitty the way he missed Jack. It was an ache they recognized in one another, he thought. He took comfort in not being alone, even though they rarely talked about it.

“Come on, Lardo,” he said. “I know you turned in your final project. Come downstairs with me for a while. I’ll be your partner for beer pong if you want.”

“Bits,” Lardo said. “I appreciate that, but it’s not really your thing, is it?”

“Fine,” Bits said. “But come downstairs? Please?”

Lardo still looked sad, but she got up, locked the door to her room, and came downstairs.

The team had assembled in the living room, most equipped with red solo cups of beer. They were under strict orders not to eat the party food until guests arrived, although Bitty didn’t hold out any hope for them leaving much for late arrivals.

Lardo was setting up beer pong and Bitty was checking the napkin supply (He was fooling himself if he thought people would use napkins. He knew this.) when the doorbell rang. 

A moment later, he heard one of the frog’s voices in the hall saying, “I think he’s in the kitchen. Through there.”

Bitty looked up and saw Cami, dressed in jeans and a Samwell sweatshirt.

“Eric! I seem to have picked a bad time,” she said. “You guys are having a party, I see. I just stopped to see some of the girls from my team before I headed home for Christmas, and I thought I’d come and say hi.”

“Maybe it’s a good time?” Bitty said. “I could use some company, truth be told. And you know some of the guys at least, right?”

An hour later, Bitty stood along the wall in the living room, nursing his third beer. Lardo was on his left, bemoaning the poor beer pong play she was watching. Cami was on his right, talking about how sometimes she missed Samwell and the relative freedom of the students there.

Bitty heard the first strains of the song before he heard Holster yell, “Bitty!” He managed to shove his cup into Cami’s hands with a short “Hold this” before Ransom emerged from the crowd on the dance floor, arms extended. He took Bitty by both hands and towed to the middle and Beyonce sang “See me up in the club with 50 of the girls, posted in the back with my things on my grill, Brooklyn brim with my eyes sittin' low …”

Cami could see Holster standing, nearly a foot taller, in front of Bitty. He and Ransom followed Bittys moves, swinging their hips and letting their shoulders roll. They weren’t bad, Cami thought, but Eric was better. His body moved in ways that she was sure the hockey Haus had never seen before he got there.

She got a better view as the dancers pulled back from the trio, giving them room, just as two defensemen moved in closer to Eric. Holster stood behind him, his massive hands on the sides of Eric’s waist. Ransom was in front, facing Eric. All three were bumping and grinding and singing and grinning with the pure joy of being able to goof around and let off steam. As sexual as their actions were, their attitude showed that it was all in good fun.

Cami broke her gaze to took at Lardo and say, “I never knew they were gay.”

Lardo still had her eyes on the threesome on the dance floor. “Ransom and Holster? Who knows what they are. Not really my business, anyway.”

There was something sad in her look, Cami thought. She wanted to cheer Lardo up, so she bumped he shoulder and said, “Beer pong?”

“Any good?” Lardo asked.

“I was captain of the tennis team,” Cami said. “I understand something about making a ball go where I want it to.”

Bitty came off the dance floor to see Cami and Lardo splashing ball after ball into the cups in front of two lax bros who thought they could take two girls easily. Cami and Lardo were taking turns, challenging each other, laughing. Bitty, still flushed from his dance, thought that maybe this year’s Epikegster wasn’t so bad after all.

Bitty got himself another beer -- he suspected his original cup was one of about 15 on the hall table, and he wasn’t going to risk it -- and settled in to watch as the lax dudes demanded a rematch.

Cami and Lardo dispatched them even more quickly the second time. When they turned towards Bitty, Lardo was pulling her phone from the pocket of her jeans, the screen lit up with an incoming call. She waved it in front of Bitty -- he was pretty sure he saw Shitty’s face -- and headed toward the kitchen, where it would be quieter.

Cami settled back against the wall.

“So why do you guys call her Lardo?” she asked. “When I heard Jack mention her the first time, I thought it would be this enormous guy. But she’s tiny.”

“Even smaller than me, you mean?” Bitty teased.

“You said it, not me,” Cami laughed, and Bitty joined in. It didn’t hurt nearly as much when he said things like that first. Sometimes, it even felt like having friends.

“Seriously, though, she’s cute,” Cami said. “Is she seeing anyone?”

Bitty felt the warmth of the alcohol drain from his face. Maybe it was nothing.

“It’s complicated,” he said, then decided to push it. “You have someone in mind to set her up with?”

“Yeah,” Cami said. “Me. Does she like girls?”

Nope, not nothing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bitty said. “She wouldn’t do that to Jack. I didn’t think you would either.”

He turned and walked up the stairs without looking back. He went into his room, closed the door and locked it, and then leaned back against for good measure, trying to keep noise from the party from coming in, trying to keep what he had learned from his thoughts.

It was no good. Now he knew. Jack was being betrayed. Jack was being hurt. Again. Bitty found out about it during Epikegster. Again. 

All of the effort Bitty put into not being jealous, into liking Cami (and except for her relationship with Jack, she _was_ likeable. Or she had been), it had all been a waste. Because even if Jack was happy now, he wouldn’t be when he found out what was going on.

Unless he was OK with Cami being with other people? Did they have an open relationship? Bitty didn’t think Jack would do that. He’d never had a relationship since Bitty had known him, and he kept this one so private he didn’t even talk to Bitty about it.

He didn’t talk to Bitty about it, so Bitty couldn’t bring it up to him. Could he? How? He didn’t want to be the one to break bad news to Jack.

Bitty had sunk to the floor, tilting his head back against the door, when he heard the tapping.

“Eric?”

Cami was the only one in the Haus that used his first name.

He heaved a sigh and stood wearily. He opened the door.

“Cami.”

“Eric, what did you mean doing something to Jack? Why would he care about me and Larissa?” 

Eric thought Cami was doing a good job of looking confused.

“Did y’all think I didn’t know about you?” Bitty asked. “That if you didn’t talk about it to me, I wouldn’t notice? Were you trying to spare my feelings? Don’t tell the sad little gay boy that his crush has someone? Jack’s a professional athlete, Cami, and Providence is a small market. When he goes out with someone, it makes the papers.”

“We know that,” Cami said, still looking at Eric like she didn’t understand what he was getting at.

“You can’t go behind Jack’s back and see other people,” Bitty said. “You can’t hurt him like that. You know him better than that. You know he feels things, he feels things so much. He doesn’t like to show it, but he cares, and so many people don’t see that. But you have to.”

“Of course I see how he feels, Eric,” Cami said. “We’re friends. We talk. We go to events because we’re both in Providence and both unattached. We are not dating.”

Eric sat heavily on his bed.

“That’s not what it looked like,” he said. “Are you sure he knows you’re not dating?”

“Oh, come on, Eric, of course he know,” Cami said. “How much of the heteronormative bullshit have you bought into? Just because a man and woman like to hang out together doesn’t mean they’re in love.”

Eric wanted to protest that he was gay, for chrissake, and who was she to accuse of him of heteronormativity, but the words died in his throat. She was right.

“Jack knows I’m gay,” Cami said. “I would have thought you’d have a clue, given that I just asked about Larissa.”

“Could have been bi, or pan, or something,” Bitty defended, his mortification making him angry.

“Could have been,” Cami said. “Probably smart not to assume things about people.”

She was rubbing his back and her voice was kind.

“Jack never told you we were dating, did he?” she asked.

Bitty shook his head, now looking at the floor. “No,” he said. “He never said. We never talk about … this.” He waved his hand vaguely.

“I should apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have accused you of anything. And, for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Lardo would be okay with girls if she was looking for anyone, but I don’t think she is.”

“S’alright, Eric,” Cami said. “I get it. You were looking out for Jack. You should get some sleep. Just, get up and lock this door behind me, OK? You don’t need anyone barging in looking for an empty bed.”

*******

Bitty opened his eyes to a stab of sunlight the next day and groaned.

The Haus was quiet. The party had ended some time after Cami left and he crawled under the covers. Now he would have to spend hours cleaning up before catching the shuttle to the airport and heading home for two weeks in Madison, where it was just safer to assume everyone was straight. At least he could press the frogs into service. 

It would be two weeks without even the possibility of seeing Jack, who was supposed to return from the road trip late last night.

Two weeks to wonder why Jack never talked about hanging out with Cami, if they were just friends.

Did Bitty owe Jack an apology, too?

On balance, Bitty thought not. If there were things Bitty wasn’t saying to Jack, there also things Jack wasn’t saying to Bitty. 

Bitty pulled on jeans and grabbed his phone off the desk. Before slipping it into his pocket, Bitty unlocked it to find two messages from Jack. The first, at 2 a.m., just said, “Bittle.”

The second, 20 minutes later, just said, “Sleep well. Good night.”

Bitty grinned and put on his shoes before heading downstairs, collecting several mostly empty cups on the way.

He made the turn into the kitchen and stopped.

There, sitting in his kitchen, was Jack, a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs steaming on the table in front of him. While the rest of the Haus was a mess, the kitchen was spotless.

“Jack? When did you get here?” Bitty asked.

“Just about an hour ago,” Jack said. “I have it on good authority that you need more protein.”

He nodded to a second plate of eggs next to the toaster, which had two slices of bread loaded into the slots. Bitty pushed the lever down and poured himself some coffee while he waited for the bread to brown.

He looked down at his sneakers and then back up at Jack. He bit his lip, then asked, “Did Cami have something to do with this?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jack said. “She called me last night and said I was an ass and you were oblivious. Or maybe I was oblivious, but I was still an ass.”

“But I thought she said you two were just friends?” Bitty asked. “Why would me getting it wrong make you an ass?”

“Because I should have told you,” Jack said. “I knew -- we knew -- that people would see us together and draw their own conclusions. But she said I should have told you, and she was right.”

“You don’t have to tell me your business,” Bitty said, busying himself by spreading jam on his toast.

“I don’t have to,” Jack said. “But I should have. Cami said you were upset because you thought she was going to hurt me.”

“Well, yeah,” Bitty said. “I know you. You take things to heart. You care so much for people. How many mornings did you wake up to practice with me? You didn’t even like me.”

“Most people would say that was me putting hockey ahead of you,” Jack said.

“No,” Bitty said. “If I hadn’t gotten better, I’d have been cut. If I was cut, I’d lose my scholarship and have to go home.”

“And I wouldn’t have gotten to spend so much time with you,” Jack said. “I think really, that’s why I did it. I wanted to spend time with you. Still do.”

“I like spending time with you, too,” Bitty said, still confused, but with a seed of hope taking root in his belly as he sat next to Jack.

“Jack, Cami said she’s gay,” Bitty said. “You don’t have to tell me, but was that why you were taking her all those places, because you’re gay too, and you didn’t want people to find out?”

“Some,” Jack said. “The guys on the team know we’re not dating. But you knew … you knew about … me and Parse?”

Bitty thought about how to answer. “I was pretty sure something happened,” he said. “But just because you did that once doesn’t mean you’re gay. Maybe not quite straight.”

Bitty shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. You could still be attracted to Cami.”

“I was never attracted to Cami,” Jack said. “The thing with Parse, it wasn’t one time, but it didn’t end well. And I was never really attracted to anyone else after that, except one person.”

The vines of hope had spiralled up out of Bitty’s belly and were blooming in his stomach, and he was finding it hard to breath.

“But this person, well, he was kind of off-limits,” Jack said. “I spent long enough with Shitty to know about the problems with unequal power dynamics, and I was in a position where I had some authority over him. Then I was going into the NHL, and I knew I’d be gone a lot and I knew I couldn’t be out publicly, not for at least a year or two, and I couldn’t ask this person to wait around for me, and then ask him to hide too.”

“Him?” Bitty asked, looking up at Jack.

“You,” Jack said. “It’s you, Bitty. It’s been you. And I shouldn’t have tried to hide it.”

Jack leaned down and Bitty stretched up and their lips met briefly. Bitty’s were sticky and sweet from the jam. He sat back in his chair.

“Wow.”

Bitty breathed in, turned to face Jack more fully, and pulled him down for another, longer kiss.

“It’s always been you for me, too,” Bitty said when they broke apart. “I know you’re busy and I know you can’t go public -- at least not now. But I’ve wanted you forever.”

His expression shifted, and he looked at Jack with something like glee.

“How about we get the frogs to finish cleaning up?” he said. “I’ve got four hours until I have to leave for the airport.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought! Or come and say hi at [JustLookFrightened!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justlookfrightened)


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